Total pages in book: 121
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 113812 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 569(@200wpm)___ 455(@250wpm)___ 379(@300wpm)
Lauralee walks out with flour on her temple and powder on the side of her neck. I laugh behind my hand. “Looks like you were caught in a battle of wills. Who won?”
“The mixer.” She swipes across her forehead with the back of her arm. “It needs replacing.”
The teens come to the counter to pay for their candy, so I stand and go to refill my soda to give them space. I hear the buttons of the old-fashioned register clacking and clanging, and then she says, “That will be three fifty-seven for the candy.”
The kids pay and dash out the door, my attention grabbed when the chime sounds again. I’ve been trained like Pavlov’s dog to respond to the sound of the bell because one time, that bell meant Tagger Grange was here.
I return to the counter. “What do I owe you?”
“For two eaten biscuits, one with nibbled edges, and two to go—”
“Don’t forget the soda.”
“Plus a small soda.” The tap of the keys leaves us in suspense until she says, “Oh weird.” Smacking the side of the metal register, she grunts. “It says on the house again. Lucky you.”
I roll my eyes with a laugh. “You can’t make it on the house all the time or your business will go under.”
Leaning against the bakery display, she says, “Business is just fine. It’s doing better than it’s ever done. The added fountain drinks and morning coffee have turned it around.”
I set down a ten-dollar bill anyway. “No change.”
“Well, considering it was zero dollars, that’s an outstanding tip. Hey, Mom,” she calls to the back. “We’ve got a big tipper out here.”
My cheeks heat from embarrassment. I grit my teeth, and whisper, “Do you have to make a scene every time?”
She nods, pleased with herself. “That’s half the fun.”
“What’s the other half?”
“Pure delight.”
I’ll admit that she’s funny when she wants to be.
Her mom pushes through the swing door, and Lauralee and I quickly straighten our shoulders as if she just caught us up to no good. When she sees the money on the counter, I swear I almost catch her about to roll her eyes, but she stops herself. Always being the prim and proper lady she is, it was refreshing to almost see her stoop to our level. She says, “I’m not taking that, Chrissy.”
“Pocket it, put it in the register, or donate it, but it’s staying right here on the counter.”
She hands me a small white cardboard box. “I put some extra biscuits in there for your dad.”
“Thank you.” I take the box, knowing she won’t let me leave without it even though they could make twice the money by selling it to someone else. And I don’t have the willpower to walk away from their biscuits. They’re comfort food, and right now, stewing in my vulnerability, I can use all the consolation I can get. “He loves your biscuits.”
“Tell him to come by and see me sometime. It’s been too long since we had a visit.”
It’s true. He doesn’t leave the ranch much if he can help it. And other than the feed store, he really doesn’t go anywhere. It’s actually a good idea to bring him with me next Friday. “I will. Thank you again.”
Lauralee is slipping off the apron. “I’m going to take a break and chat with Chris, okay, Mom?”
She replies, “You girls enjoy.”
We walk outside together and start a short stroll down the small main street Peachtree Pass has maintained for the past one hundred-plus years. The stores have changed, but the bones are still here.
The sun is blasting today, but the covered sidewalk gives us a nice reprieve. I stop in front of the only clothing store in town to peer in. It’s straight out of the nineties in style, but I score something good every once in a while.
“What’s going on with you?” she asks, standing at my side and staring through the glass. “I held a whole conversation with you that you didn’t hear. You didn’t even realize when I left. You just sat there, staring . . . and eating a biscuit. What gives?”
“Nothing,” I say effortlessly, but I’m certain the heavy sigh that escapes right after gives me away.
“That nothing sure is weighing on you.” She shifts to face me, blocking my window shopping. “Chris? What is going on?” I’m given an arched brow and hands-on-hips stance. She means business. I’m not getting out of this easily, and if she has her way, she’ll crack me open like she always does and know everything down to the soap I used this morning. “Is this about Tagger and him leaving?”
What can I say that won’t involve information I’m not ready to share?
More importantly, why am I hiding this from her in the first place?
I tell her everything, but my lips feel locked when it comes to Tagger. He didn’t ask me to keep a secret. I didn’t think to say anything to him about it. I know neither of us is rushing to tell my brother anything, but Lauralee is different. She would never betray me. Or judge me for any good or bad decision I’ve made.